“Carry each his burden, we are young despite the years
We are concern, we are hope despite the times
All of the sudden, these days
Happy throngs, take this joy
(Take away the scattered bones of my meal)
Wherever, wherever you go”
Buck/Mills/Berry/Stipe
There are at least two people that are already typing out a message to me to let me know that the title of this week’s blog and the lyrics are from two different REM songs. They are otherwise lovely people. I’m going to see Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds next week with one of them, and the other one had already given up on REM by the time Life’s Rich Pageant came out saying that they’d sold out , before the rest of us knew who they were. That same person is now typing that the lyrics are from the song ‘These Days’ , and that Life’s Rich Pageant is an album title and not a song title.
Brendan Boylan introduced me to REM…and The Jesus & Mary Chain, and The Virgin Prunes on summer evenings at O’Donnells where we’d gather most evenings. When REM played support to U2 in Croke Park in Dublin in 1985 and Brendan and I may have been the only two that knew who they were and danced.
Years later , when I frequented terrible clubs on Leeson St., and I could single handedly clear any dancefloor with extravagant arm swinging to REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’. This performance would be repeated at home on Saturday nights at the disco in the soccer club, Monaghan United.
Years later still I went to see Rem play in Slane with Milo and Patricia. One of the best gigs ever ! The sun shone, Oasis played support, and the beer was frothy.
If you’d asked me at any point during that time if I was a fan of REM I’d probably said “They’re OK , but…” and then gone on to name several other bands that I thought I liked more at that moment, or that I thought sounded cooler. But I keep returning to REM.
My friend Pat is another REM in my life.
We have been friends since sometime in the early 90’s. Pat owned three shoe shops and I was the agent for Skechers. Pat was only a little older than I was , but acted like he’d seen everything before. His shops were near Clane, where my Soulmate and I lived, so his shops were a handy call on a Monday morning, or Friday afternoon. Even if I had nothing to sell, or if I had, and he wasn’t in the mood to buy, we’d always have a coffee and a smoke.
When my Mum began her lymphoma journey Pat’s wife Ellen was already on hers, and many helpful conversations were had, with Pat helping to guide our family through some of the early shocks.
I helped Santa procure a Buzz Lightyear for Pat’s son Patrick in 1996.
Pat and Ellen were at our wedding.
When Jake was born I took him to visit the staff in Pat’s shop in Leixlip. I changed Jake’s nappy while we there and impressed the staff …and horrified Pat.
Pat and I would keep company with each other in various Irish bars in the Altstadt in Dusseldorf at the bi-annual GDS footwear fair.
We played golf badly and infrequently, our highlight was frustrating another retailer from Athlone so much with our cavalier attitude, and bogey handicaps, while playing in a Footwear Retailers Golf Association competition that he broke one club, and threw away another…before we’d finished the third hole.
And yet I don’t think that we’ve ever sent each other a Christmas or birthday card, and sometimes years have gone by with no contact at all.
We did have a very memorable , and boozy day, in 2017 , when not having had a proper chat in ages, we decided to go for a beer in The Palace Bar at 3 o’clock on a Wednesday. We left there at 8-ish to go for something to eat in a posh Italian place that Pat said we’d get a table in , because he knew the owner. We were the only two patrons. But we made it worth their while by drinking all of their wine. We had a heartfelt conversation that night. We cried with laughter …and then I cried, properly, and Pat handed me his napkin, and ordered whiskey.
We ended up in The Stags Head until closing time and shared a taxi, just so that Pat could make sure that I was home in my hotel safe.
And that was that for a few years.
He reached out to me two years ago to tell me that he had cancer and was starting treatment, and I said “Snap !”. We then kept in touch , comparing the food offering in Beaumont versus St.James, and various aches and pains. Pat, myself, my college friend Denise, and my Svengali , Tadhg, were all going through treatment at the same time and I took to referring to us as Chemolympians.
And then we lost touch after we’d both had surgery.
My two other Chemolympians, Denise and Tadhg, passed away the following year and I was afraid to contact Pat at all in case there was no reply. Eventually I picked up the courage to text ‘Hello’ and got a ‘Hello’ back. I offered to meet for a coffee and was told ‘Maybe later’, which worried me. I thought he was unwell, or not coping. It turned out he was holidaying in Kerry, and then heading to Canada.
We finally met this week, on a Wednesday…but stuck to coffee.
We had delicious breakfast baps and coffee in the café in The Chocolate Factory and chatted about EVERYTHING ! We talked about our kids, work, treatment, and our long suffering Soulmates. We laughed a lot.
He asked if I was in a rush, I said I’m never in a rush, and so we walked down Henry St. and Liffey St., remembering old shops , no longer there , that had been kingpins of the shoe trade, talked about how lucky some of them had seemed, and how lucky we actually were.
We said goodbye with the promise to meet in Monaghan in the New Year.
When I got in the car a thing popped up saying that REM had released their Green album 35 years ago that day. I played it, then I played Life’s Rich Pageant, and thought that Pat is part of mine, and how lucky I am.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This is ‘These Days’ and it’s dedicated to my Good Witch in Salem, Stan, Mairead, and anyone who needs it.
